


Visual

by Glitch1 (The_Glitches)



Series: Entangle [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Prime
Genre: M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Glitches/pseuds/Glitch1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Megatron indulges in a little visual-appreciation of Starscream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visual

**Author's Note:**

> Glitch1 here:
> 
> This began as a three-part story from Megatron's 3rd POV, intended to be a simple lead-up to a PWP. Instead, it has since turned into a nine-part series, with three interspersed chapters from Starscream's aftermath POV. I simply could not stop writing; this portrayal of their interaction was much too fun to write. 
> 
> But truthfully, thank Glitch2 for her demand of, and I paraphrase: 'I demand another three from Megatron's POV, and another three from Starscream's POV!'
> 
> Despite this, it is still a PWP.
> 
> I would also like to state that, as a long time yaoi/slash fan, I enjoy (love) the fancanons of Cybertonian intercourse and their similarities between organic nooky (haha), BUT I also deeply love and respect the opposite end - the canon lore, that they do not have human-based urges and equipment, that they ARE completely alien and have no concept of sexuality, or of gender in the sense we understand. I LOVE that.
> 
> With that said, read on, dear reader...

It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last, in which Megatron found his focus straying from his duties. Let it not be said that he didn’t apply his undivided attention to his responsibilities and the countless undertakings he, as a leader, must deal with. However, there were some distractions – inevitable upon a great warship – which _could_ hijack his focus. One of these was an incessant pest, striving to test Megatron’s carefully tempered self-control, (and tap into his endless reservoir of ire). 

This distraction was named Starscream.

For millennia he has been a multitude of things to Megatron: Air Commander; irritating; Second in Command; a tactical genius; a traitorous slag heap; a source of dark, often unfortunate, amusement; and of course, a distraction, the latter of which had been carefully ignored or discreetly indulged in. It had been with begrudging acceptance that Megatron did admit to himself Starscream _was_ pleasant to look at. He had long ago acknowledged this – his dilemma cemented by the sneaky peeks his own army stole towards the Seeker – and had prudently restrained his own gaze throughout the ages.

Even now, as Starscream strode through the bridge entrance, the distinct sounds of his unique pedes announced his arrival and effectively drew a few glimpses from the vehicons working at their stations. As usual, any additional sounds to the balanced ambience of the bridge during a quiet period caught Megatron’s audials, and he turned his sharp gaze on the approaching mech. A split second’s glance over alerted him to the datapad held in both long-clawed servos, revealing his reason for being there.

Megatron’s optics stayed, fixed upon Starscream’s frame as he crossed the platform strip. It really lent itself to his perverse leering; no one would appreciate that length of floor until they watched Starscream strutting across its stretch towards them, an exhibit to behold. The TAP, TAP, TAP of his spurred pedes seemed to dominate the quiet, and Megatron’s gaze panned down the Seeker’s slim legs to watch the rhythm of his stride, the motion of his step. Starscream’s natural pace never stomped; he placed. Unlike with the bulk of most mechs, his weight allowed him an air of grace. When he actually cared to display it, of course. There were moments when his pride dictated his movements, and he pranced about with his arrogant attitude and deliberate posing, but these instances were infrequent around Megatron himself. Nevertheless, the elegant parade and sweep of those wings were often a source of forbidden pleasure, if only because such mannerisms were displayed nowhere else. It was, in a way, refreshing. Exotic.

Drawing his optics steadily up the length of those legs, Megatron felt a bolt of fire sear through his circuits. It was no secret Starscream’s legs were a thing of beauty by themselves, evidenced by many a gawk, and Megatron could easily confess to himself the aesthetic appeal, the work of art. There were few Cybertronians who could boast of such sleek lines, and even less on this pitiful planet, Earth. If ever Megatron was forced to terminate Starscream, perhaps he would salvage those legs for a continued, albeit morbid, enjoyment...

The course of several seconds had passed since Starscream’s arrival, and not a word had been spoken as he neared. By now, it was clear the intense, brazen scrutiny over his frame coupled with the silence had obviously unnerved him slightly, and he was giving Megatron an uncertain frown, his pace faltering slightly. It wasn’t uncommon for Megatron to intimidate him, but never had he so blatantly raked his optics over Starscream’s frame.

“Er, My Liege?” He uttered, voice level but unsure. One eye ridge had fallen and the other lifted, adopting a perplexed air as he came to a stop a safe distance away. “Is something wrong?”

Megatron was a master of ignoring someone while simultaneously inflicting the weight of his entire attention. He allowed his gaze to travel across the smooth panes of the Seeker’s thigh plates, appreciating the fine contours as they led him higher. Starscream was a thin mech, but his slender frame disguised his prowess and had led to many a bot’s downfall; the deception had often piqued Megatron’s lustful awareness. That waist circumference was another misleading feature, for although Megatron could wrap one servo around it completely, it could take quite the punishment – durability was, quite obviously, a respected trait in Decepticons. A flash of light reflected across the glass of his cockpit as the Seeker shifted uncomfortably on his pedes. Megatron’s optics flickered across it, recalling the amount of pressure needed to crack its smooth surface.

“My Lord?” Starscream tried again, optics flitting up to Megatron’s face and down again, failing to stay there under the predatory inspection. The warlord’s gaze was like a physical quality across his frame, triggering his coded instinct to fidget. He remembered the datapad in his servos and held it out. “I have brought my report, as ordered.”

Megatron’s optics glanced down at the presented pad with no interest, and then rose, locking onto the Seeker’s wider ones. He held him them for a long, torturous second, feeding off the look of bewildered wariness as it quickly transformed into apprehension. Starscream had never mastered the art of impassivity, and on the occasion he could train his expression, his wings would always give him away.

As though to demonstrate, they shifted noticeably behind Starscream, slowly inching down as the Seeker finally convinced himself something was not right. Megatron smirked, amused. The wings dropped a little more.

“I, uh…” Starscream began without direction, unsure whether or not he was in some sort of trouble. He glanced quickly down at his own frame, suddenly convinced that, somehow, someone had defaced his finish without him noticing – however unlikely that was. But no, there was nothing on him that would explain the reason for Megatron’s stare. The Seeker shifted on his pedes again. “Lord Megatron? Is everything…alright?”

By now a few vehicons had glanced at them both, curiously. Soundwave, at his station, tilted his helm slightly, drawn from his work by Starscream’s words. Although, now that placed even more gazes on him.

Deciding that he had unwittingly done something to warrant this disturbing display, Starscream started to step back. “Well, I’ll just, er, submit my report la – ”

Just as he began to lower the proffered pad, Megatron’s large servo grabbed it, and the Seeker froze, daring to look up into his hard optics. The gladiator felt a blaze of smugness at the fear he could produce, content to let the smaller mech fret over whatever was fueling Megatron’s daunting behavior. It didn’t take much these days, nonetheless it was entertaining. But fear wasn’t Megatron’s aim, merely a perk. He restrained the pad, digits pinning those of his SIC’s as he held him there, reveling in their height differences as he loomed. A thrill of dark possibilities thrummed briefly through Megatron, whispers of things he could do, things he had imagined, murmured in the back of his mind. Power often brought the enticement of wicked musings, but only a weak-minded fool would act upon them… Most of them.

Taking a last, indulging sweep down Starscream’s frame, Megatron turned his optics to the Seeker’s. He lessened his grip to release those talons and took the datapad from him, watching his face plate closely.

“Thank you, _Starscream_ ,” he finally enunciated, tone laced with a mocking sincerity and unkind amusement.

The Seeker withdrew his arm as he took another step back, unable to tear his gaze away – his Lord had not thanked him for many, many years. Genuine or not. He seemed to be searching Megatron’s expression for some indication of his mood, but of course he found nothing. His wings lifted a touch, still broadcasting his bafflement.

“Dismissed,” Megatron added, although with a tad reluctance; he was enjoying the view.

Casting a quick, searching glance at Soundwave, who did nothing, Starscream gave Megatron a slow, slight bow, optics darting up before turning and making his way back towards the exit. Evidently, he knew he was still being watched, for his wings began pinching together, radiating his discomfort. Ironic, considering how much he usually craved attention.

Megatron felt his sneer twitch in reaction. Taking an interest in the way Starscream responded to him brought the familiar burn of pleasure, one that he too often denied himself. What was the point in minions if he couldn’t take some form of gratification from them? As he watched the motions of Starscream’s accelerated gait, his optics grazed along the smooth shape of his thruster unit and down to the sway of his thigh plates. There was a hypnotic value to them that only broke when the doors slid shut behind Starscream, ending Megatron’s visual. He blinked, appreciative of the short scene in the otherwise dull period. It was curious how the very same mech who could fill him with anger was also the one who could rouse the other side of the scales. And so easily, at that.

When he turned back to his inspection of the reports on the console, he caught Soundwave’s faceplate watching him. Megatron merely smirked.

Out in the deserted corridor of the Nemesis, Starscream stopped. It occurred to him that, perhaps, Megatron’s words of thanks hadn’t been for the datapad…


End file.
